Mine
by OverwhelmedAndTerrified
Summary: She ridicules him constantly and for years he takes it in stride. But then one night he tells the blonde that he's sick of her shit.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so full disclosure: I stopped watching iCarly in the middle of season 3 and only did minimal research in preparation for this story. So if anything sounds completely off then I apologize. I don't really make too many references to stuff in the show anyway so there shouldn't be any problem. Okay so let me set the scene: 1) Carly went to Italy for a year and just got back a few months ago 2) Fred and Sam were NEVER EVER even close to being in a relationship (that includes their whole first kiss thing). This will be a 3 or 4 chapter story.**

 **CHAPTER 1:**

Sam Puckett was exhausted.

Her finger hovered just millimeters over the register's 'Cash out' button. She was more than ready to press it, eject the drawer, and head to the office to count that night's profits, when suddenly all of Seattle seemed to pour into Chili My Bowl with healthy appetites. Her hand dropped with a hugely disappointed thump to the counter. The blonde loved a late night bowl of chili just as much as the next guy but, seriously, what the fuck were all those people doing there at 9:40 pm? 20 fucking minutes before closing time? As the restaurant filled she rolled her eyes hard enough to send a dull ache radiating across her forehead. Had it been the old Sam Puckett standing there at the register as the hungry hoard ordered, things might've taken a much more homicidal turn. But this was Sam 2.0, the considerably less abrasive version that desperately needed to keep a job.

An hour of fake smiling later and her mild migraine had escalated into a relentless throb. So when she finally entered the cool Washington night with pain shooting through the soles of her feet and pressing behind her skull, the very last thing she wanted was more human interaction. But her Pear Phone vibrated in her pocket anyway.

It was a text from Carly. Sam loved her best friend but, holy fucking Christ, whatever it was she was NOT in the mood.

 _Emergency rehearsal ASAP_

That was all it said. And instantly Sam was pissed off because both of those damn brunettes, Shay and Benson, _knew_ she had JUST finished a long, soul-crushing double shift at work. And the message itself was so…so _demanding_. The blonde spent the past 8 hours serving customers and now here was yet another pair of people wanting something from her, telling her what to do. She shoved her phone in the pocket of her navy blue bomber jacket and looked down the street. Bus number 9 was fast approaching, its bright marquee visible even a few blocks away. Fuck rehearsal. Sam wanted to go to her apartment, fire up Netflix, and eat leftover meat lover's pizza until she slipped into a food coma. None of her plans for relaxation involved an overtly perky best friend and a know-it-all tech geek. _Fuuuck_ rehearsal. She sighed angrily as her pocket vibrated again.

This time when Sam rolled her eyes, it was with a smirk tugging at her lips. She always told Carly that she used too many goddamn emojis and that went double for the smiley face one. It had nearly started a war between the two of them countless times. But that night Carly's favorite little emoticon was the key to softening her assertive text message and swaying the irritable blonde.

"Ugh." Sam scoffed, adjusting the strap of her tan leather messenger bag, "Damn you Shay."

But, really, if she was being honest with herself, Sam already knew that, smiley face or not, when she got on that bus she was going to take it straight to Carly's building. That coming weekend the legendary trio would be airing their first episode of iCarly since her co-host's return from a year in Italy so Sam made sure to take things a little more seriously than she usually did. Sure their web show was all fun and games on the surface but in reality it was one of, if not the, most important thing they'd ever done with their lives so far. That silly little webcast had provided them with opportunities the likes of which they'd never ever expected. This would be their comeback episode. It would break the hiatus and show just how many people were still fans, how many viewers were still waiting patiently for their return. She'd be lying if she said the idea of a severely diminished fanbase didn't send a tiny blade of panic stabbing through her gut, right between the 3 bowls of chili she'd inhaled for lunch and the 4 bowls of chili she'd inhaled for dinner. If dragging herself, with feet screaming and head pounding, to the Shay's loft would help perfect this pivotal episode and satisfy the web-heads then so be it.

She flashed the driver her bus pass as she boarded and he simply grunted in response. Sam was a regular on the number 9, another exhausted member of the struggling masses working towards a car one soul-crushing shift at a time.

God she hated working, and to make matters worse it was the same job she'd been fired from a few years back. Just thinking about the begging and the ass-kissing she'd done to get her old position back made Sam cringe. It wasn't until she promised not to eat the chili or disrespect the customers and even agreed to work doubles every weekend that her manager finally gave in and Jesus Christ she'd felt so weak as he handed her an employee hat and t-shirt. It was only her 1st month and already she hated it even more than before. But Sam refused to go back to waiting tables at the Hunny Bunny Gentleman's Club. With a somewhat violent reputation, the employment pickings became really fucking slim really fucking fast for Sam. Chili My Bowl, as much as she despised it, was her best option at the moment. It would all be worth it when she could finally buy herself a car though. So she sat back with a deep sigh and reveled in the sweet smell of ground beef wafting from her t-shirt.

The elevator doors opened onto their studio. It had gotten more use in the last 2 weeks than it did the entire year Carly was away, yet every kooky knick knack seemed frozen in time, untouched by their long hiatus. For that she was glad. Puckett wasn't one for change unless she was in control of it. That's why the past 12 months were like her own personal hell. Carly's unexpected desire to leave, being kicked out of her mom's house, and even being hit with a marijuana-induced epiphany that it was high time she got her shit together were all completely involuntary events. Nevertheless, if there was one thing Samantha Puckett was good at, it was gaining the upper hand. So she'd taken all of her negatives and beat the shit out of them until they were positives. She only allowed herself to cry exactly 3 tears as Carly's powder pink tote bag disappeared into terminal 12, then she rubbed her face so hard she thought her skin might come off. And when she turned to a weeping Spence and a blubbering Fredweird, it was only to tell them to man the fuck up and take her to get some ribs. She took Carly's absence as an opportunity to completely close off that part of herself that _needed_ someone, that uncharacteristically soft spot she'd developed from years of having the most loyal and understanding best friend in the universe. So when her bitch of a mother randomly kicked her out over some bullshit, Sam barely even felt her ass hit the pavement. She simply dusted off her jeans, and hauled her meager possessions to the one place she knew she'd always be accepted no matter how royally she fucked up. Jonah took one look at her duffle bag before stepping back and opening the door wider. It still amazed her. The two of them had had a junior high relationship too riddled with infatuation to be anything truly substantial. But over the years, they'd found themselves to be eerily alike, regularly landing in the same shitty situations because of their own identical irresponsibility. And so they'd forged a strange kind of bond that a pair of goody-two-shoes like Benson and Shay could never really comprehend. It seemed that Sam and Jonah were kindred spirits born from the same gutter and their miseries loved each other's company.

She found herself couch surfing at Jonah's crappy 1 bedroom apartment for 8 months. And, yes, some nights were spent in his bed because they were both trainwrecks and that's how it works. They fucked only on occasion and only when there was nothing good on tv because the attraction was strong enough for fucking but never for anything deeper. He didn't complain when her hair clogged the bathtub drain or when she left gravy stains everywhere. He allowed her to dip into his weed stash for free and, when she let him, he fucked her as hard and as fast as she wanted. All that and still, Sam never felt the flames of romance ignite between them. She had always known this but it didn't really strike her until they were sitting around smoking a joint at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. And maybe the Mary Jane opened her mind's eye or some hippy shit like that but the blonde suddenly realized that it was time for HER to man the fuck up. So Jonah let her in on his little weed-selling business until she had enough for a security deposit, first month's rent, and a few pieces of second hand furniture for an equally crappy apartment downtown. On her last night at his place, Sam and Jonah had sex for old time's sake. And when they both came, the two looked into each other's eyes and laughed.

So there she was, 4 months of living on her own later, stepping off the Shay's elevator, exhausted and pissed off and long since drug free. She'd much rather be diving into bed and scrolling through some more want ads before passing out for the night instead of schlepping it over to the Shay's for a last minute rehearsal. Sam loved iCarly, really she did, but it damn sure didn't pay the bills.

She was so caught up in her own fatigue that the blonde almost didn't notice Freddie standing with his back to her and fiddling with some piece of equipment she couldn't see.

"Hey Sam." He said, his techy crap absorbing so much of his attention that he barely even glanced over his shoulder.

"Benson." She shuffled sluggishly past him and across the room with a yawn. "Got any Tylenol? My head's killing me."

"Uh no I don't sorry."

She flopped down onto one of the beanbag chairs too hard and felt bolts of lightning shoot through her forehead.

"Ugh fuck." Sam groaned as she kneaded her temples, "All those years with that hypochondriac mom of yours and you don't carry around any pain pills?"

It came out less like the friendly jab she'd intended it to be and more like a harsh criticism. She didn't apologize though. Hell, she didn't even want to be there in the first place. Freddie ignored her, his hands and gaze still glued to some chunk of computer geek fodder. She watched his fingers swiftly switch around brightly colored wires with the dexterity of an expert. He was the same old Fredward….except…now when he flipped switches or typed on the keyboard, there was muscle definition, subtle yet clear as day, flexing in his exposed forearms. And, though he'd hit puberty years ago, sometimes it still amazed her when he spoke and this deeper, richer, and infinitely more mature voice came out. What made it even more difficult to swallow was the stubbly face that the voice came out of. She had gotten so used to his baby face that to see it now, more angular and sporting closely kempt facial hair, was still jarring sometimes, even after all this time.

"I see you're rocking a couple of chin hairs there Fredley." Sam grinned as she removed her messenger bag, "Is someone becoming a maaaaan?"

It wasn't her best joke. The boy hadn't really been a boy for like 5 years and he'd had the makings of a beard for at least 3. She blamed the headache, it was throwing off her game.

"Very funny Puckett." His voice rolled to her, as smooth as butter, "I think someone IS becoming a man but those changes you're experiencing are perfectly normal I promise."

Sam really couldn't help but let out a genuine laugh even though it hurt her skull because that was a good one.

"Whoooaaa FredLumps with the comeback."

And for the first time in 4 minutes, he looked at her. Then he smiled. Then something strummed inside of her like guitar strings so she changed the subject.

"Where's Carly?" Sam gently grabbed her bag and began to rummage through it, "I didn't see anybody downstairs."

"She's in her room on the phone with her dad."

"Christ the guy just had her for a whole year." She scoffed, still digging around, "She needs to bring her Italian ass up here so we can get this over with."

"That's a great attitude."

"Shut it alright. I'm not in the mood-…." The blonde began to search more frantically through her bag, "Where the FUCK is my ph- oh here it is."

She pulled out her Pear Phone before dropping the purse and leaning lazily back into the beanbag.

"What're you doing?" he asked her, his techno junk now forgotten as he leaned on it and regarded Sam with piercing brown eyes.

"Minding my business, you should try it." She mumbled, already tuning him out as she typed then sent a text to her best friend that read: _Get your ass up here NOW AND BRING ME ALL THE TYLENOL IN THE WORLD!_

And because she was so good at ignoring Freddie Benson, Sam didn't even hear Carly's phone chime in his back pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2:**

Freddie cleared his throat and started nerding around with his techno junk again, "Long day at Chili My Bowl?"

Sam curled up in the beanbag like an overweight dog and scrolled through Instagram as she waited for either Carly's response or arrival.

"Shitty day is more like it. It was a mob scene. I spilled more chili on my shirt than in my mouth."

"Yeah I did get a whiff of ground beef when you came up."

"He knows smells ladies and gentlemen. Give the kid a medal."

"Whatever."

"No comeback this time Fredwina?" she grinned.

"I'm not going to stoop to your level."

"Oh how VERY mature of you."

"What's your problem Sam?" he looked at her, his face flushing just slightly red.

She rolled her eyes, "Relax Freddork I didn't say anything about your stupid hair or your dumb face did I?"

He didn't respond. But his expression said it all. She watched his jaw clench and create this angular line she was pretty sure pre-pubescent Freddie did NOT have. His mouth moved just slightly as if he wanted to say something…but he just went back to his computer stuff instead. And again, Sam didn't apologize. The blonde chuckled actually, mentally tallying yet another small victory against Benson. She reached for her bag once more, hoping a couple of celebratory fat cakes would make her feel less exhausted. It only took a few seconds of searching though to remember she'd eaten her entire stash on the bus ride over.

"Damnit." Sam grumbled, snatching up her phone. Completely unwilling to get up and go downstairs, she sent another text to Carly.

 _BRING FOOD!_

Freddie cleared his throat again as Sam heard the phone in his back pocket ding. For one brief and weird second she wondered who was texting him.

"Something to say Fredley?" she smirked, shaking off her odd curiosity.

"To you? Not at all." his eyes never left the plugs and wires.

"Aw did I hurt Baby Benson's feelings?"

Freddie sighed and shook his head the same way that Sam had seen practically everyone in her entire life do. It was the classic expression of disappointment. And if there were ever 2 people she hated getting that sigh and that head shake from, it was Carly and…..ugh…Freddie. She couldn't understand it. Over the years she'd somehow not only grown to care about the tech geek's opinion of her, but to also hold that opinion in as equally high a regard as Carly's. It was fucking unexplainable but Sam couldn't stop. And she had SERIOUSLY tried. So when he blew out an exasperated breath and showed the extent of his disappointment, Sam suddenly felt a little bad. And man did she HATE that. The bitter taste of an apology begin to creep up her throat so she clamped her back molars together. Her blue eyes studied Freddie's profile, hoping to find something she could insult in place of saying sorry.

They'd barely even seen each other, let alone spoken, the entire year Carly was away. Maybe that was why, seeing him currently, was like seeing an entirely new person sometimes. Sam remembered the day Carly left and how she, Spencer, and Freddie had all sat in some nearby barbeque place after leaving the airport. The guys only ordered water while she devoured 2 full racks of ribs. She watched them both as she gnawed the bones clean, disgusted as Fredward stared down at the table and wiped stray tears. It was a powerful emotion, the disgust, that twisted her stomach into knots because, in the front of her mind, she thought he was being a fucking lovesick crybaby…..but in the back of her mind, where the view wasn't always so clear, she thought maybe there was some other more complicated reason why she hated seeing him weep like a girl. Then she started to wonder if someone like Jonah would ever cry if she left the country for a year. Would Jonah miss her? Barbeque stains and all? And, unsure why the thought was even crossing her mind but totally sure she wanted to get rid of it, Puckett threw a handful of soiled napkins at Benson before ordering herself a half plate of wings.

She wondered now if he remembered that. Of course he did. He had to remember because, after she threw the napkins, he'd looked at her in sheer annoyance before simply sighing and shaking his head. Sam watched him stand at his little tech station like it was a second home, his brow furrowed in concentration or anger, she wasn't sure which. An apology would be too awkward at that point so Sam swallowed it. She curled back into her semi-fetal position and continued to scroll through the various apps on her phone. Where the hell was Carly!? Her thumb tapped out yet another text message.

 _Move it Shay I've got a shit ton of relaxing to do!_

Across the room, Freddie cleared his throat as the phone chimed in his back pocket. He pulled it out. Sam sloooowly, softly bit her bottom lip. And if Benson had been looking at her just then instead of the illuminated cell phone screen, he would've seen the blonde's right eyebrow rise ever so slightly. She sent another text….

 _Now!_

….and, sure enough, less than a second later, the phone in Freddie's hand dinged in response. He coughed unrealistically loud and suddenly Sam was sitting up straight.

"Is that Carly's phone?" She rubbed at her throbbing temples.

"Whaaaaat?" he frowned at her as if she'd said something ridiculous, his voice practically skyrocketing out of its post-puberty baritone and into some guilty falsetto. "Carly's pho- pfffft you're a riot Puckett."

She quickly typed a text to Carly and was on her feet, despite the pain, before it even finished sending. Sam crossed the room in big strides, snatching the cell from a terrified Freddie a split second before it dinged.

"What the hell Benson?" she fixed him with an incredulous look after finding all of her sent messages in the confiscated phone.

"Ok I-"

"I thought you said Carly was on her phone with her dad?"

"Weeelll-"

"Is she even here?"

"Weeeellllll-"

"Freddie!" Sam towered over him despite their height difference, "What's going on and where the hell is Car-…."

She stopped. Her blue eyes stared down at the boy cowering with a sheepish smile. Realization dawned like a new sun, softening her face and squeezing her eyes shut tight.

"Oh my fucking G-" she pinched the bridge of her nose, "YOU sent me that text about rehearsal tonight didn't you?"

"Um-"

She spun around on her heel and made a beeline for the bean bag. "Jesus Christ Benson are you kidding me?! I just got off a DOUBLE FUCKING SHIFT!"

Sam snatched up her messenger bag and threw it over her shoulder. The amount of rage that the situation warranted was more than her body could even sustain at that point. She was going to haul her tired butt home and deal with Fredpus later.

"Wait Sam don't you want to know why I did it?" he blocked her in the middle of the studio and had the AUDACITY to smile. Her right hand clenched into such an impossibly tight fist that it trembled in her jacket pocket.

"Because this is your pathetic idea of a prank?" she pushed him aside.

"No I-"

"Don't care FredLumps!" she called, approaching the elevator as anger continued to mount beneath her skin, "You are so lucky I'm exhausted or I'd rip your heart out of your fucking chest right now and eat it."

Freddie gulped audibly, almost foregoing the rest of the plan and letting her leave. But then he studied the back of Sam's head as she stood there waiting on the elevator. Her blond curls, limp from 12 hours of customer service, shook ever so slightly as her body trembled with a contained rage.

The elevator door opened and Freddie sprinted like a mad man to block her exit.

"What the hell is your problem!?" she shouted as he stood there like some kind of wimpy security guard.

Eventually the doors closed and Sam's headache grew that much worse.

"I did it because I need to talk to you. And I knew you probably wouldn't come if the text came from me." he replied a little nervously.

"You can talk to me all you want tomorrow when I'm beating the shit out of you. Now move."

"No."

"If you don't get out of my way right now I'll-"

"You'll what Sam?" though he remained calm, his voice, in that deep baritone she could barely handle sometimes, rose daringly. And maybe it was because she was too tired to even be pissed off correctly, or maybe because this new more grown-up Freddie never dared to challenge her when she was so obviously homicidal, but whatever the reason, Samantha Puckett was caught off guard. It was only a little and only for a second or two but that was more than enough time for Freddie. Just like that, he had the upper hand.

Her blue eyes blinked in surprise. But before she could recover and swing the fist still stuffed into her jacket pocket, he was speaking again and his voice was gentle but commanding.

"I need to talk to you Sam."

And when he folded his arms over his chest, she couldn't help but notice those same muscles, the ones in his forearms that just barely showed themselves when he flipped a switch, were suddenly more prominent, pushing up against his skin with authority. It took a little effort but she managed to tear her eyes away and roll them.

"What FredPus? What could be so goddamn important huh?"

"You may want to sit down." He suggested innocently.

Her immediate reaction was to decline. But the pain in her feet and the fleet of jackhammers in her skull wouldn't allow it. Serving him a 'this better be good' glare, Sam stalked back over to the beanbag chair and gently melted into it.

Freddie watched her as she walked and observed her as she sat because Carly told him that that was important. She'd told him to keep watching. She said something about Sam being all reinforced steel on the outside and triple reinforced steel on the inside but that some of her bolts were always loose and that some of that steel was actually tin foil. And when he looked at her as if those pretty pink lips were speaking a foreign language, she broke it down for him.

 _Carly fixed him with a gaze that said she was letting him in on a big secret. Probably because she was._

 _"_ _Yes she hides her softer side well. But sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes she bumps into one of those flimsy foil walls and tears a tiny hole in it. It doesn't happen often though and it's never on purpose. That's why you have to always watch. Because she does it on accident and you only see it in her actions, never in her words."_

 _He was growing impossibly confused. His head was still reeling from the truth bomb she dropped before the whole cryptic speech began._

 _"_ _So what're you saying Carls?"_

 _She rolled her eyes, which were surrounded by dark, alluring makeup. Her date, some guy she met at the Groovy Smoothie and had already gone out with 4 times, would be there any minute._

 _"_ _You're such a nub." She smiled tenderly, "I'm saying that all you have to do is watch and wait for that softer side of hers to flicker open."_

 _"_ _Then what?" He asked with a mouth that was completely dry._

 _The brunette leaned in to whisper though they were the only 2 in the Shay's living room._

 _"_ _Then," she grinned mischievously, "you_ _ **press**_ _on it."_


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3:**

"Well?!" Sam's impatient shout jerked him back to the matter at hand.

He realized he was still standing by the elevator, arms folded, basking in the slight shift of power that had occurred there.

"Uh right um…" he moved in her direction but stopped to stand beside his beloved tech station because that would always be his comfort zone. He cleared his throat nervously, "Ok so I- well uh I mean…um w-we uh er-"

Sam grew more and more pissed off with every nonsensical stutter. She could've been at least 2 episodes deep in American Horror Story if it wasn't for this World Class Nub.

"Come on Benson!" she yelled even though it hurt her everything to do so, "You lure me out here with the worst prank in human history and now you forget how to speak fucking English!? Spit it out before I reach down your throat and pull it out myself! Jesus Christ!"

She allowed her head to loll backwards and rest against the colorful plastic of the beanbag chair. Her fingers immediately went to her temples, rubbing them firmly into submission. She was getting more and more upset. A _headache_ of all things was keeping her under Freddweeb Benson's thumb. Her blue eyes closed.

But if they'd stayed open….

If Sam was paying attention like she should've been to Freddie's odd behavior, she would've noticed the massive change that took place as soon as her head dropped back. He wasn't sure what it was about Samantha Puckett's angry threat just then. Over the years he'd received countless angry threats from the blonde and a vast majority of them were unwarranted. But this time, this moment where he knew something so gigantic about her, everything felt different. Through a rapid and totally unexpected conversation he'd had with Carly just a few hours ago, Freddie was given insight into the one thing, the one _person_ , he had never truly understood. Clarity. That was the lens through which he now saw, and would always see, a certain notorious blonde who'd always made him feel emotions that were never meant to be felt simultaneously

She insulted him and threatened to physically rip words from his voice box. And, for the first time, he felt empowerment in place of fear because, suddenly, he understood Carly's "tin foil". He knew that, sooner or later, that softer Sam would show herself and all he had to do was wait and watch.

"I'm tired of the way you treat me Puckett."

Her eyes snapped open, then watched the world of iCarly move in slow motion as she carefully lifted her head.

"Holy fuck is THAT what this is about?" but her disgusted sneer was missing just the tiniest hint of its usual gusto because she hadn't missed the tone of his voice and she certainly couldn't ignore this brand new look in his eye. She couldn't recall or even care just how many times Freddie had started a conversation with those exact same words. But in the past he'd whined it like a baby, even giving her these big sincere almost pleading brown eyes. Sure that wounded puppy gaze would cause the same mysterious thrum of something like guitar strings in her chest, but only because it was completely involuntary. And anyway the vibrations only ever lasted 2/3rds of a second and made her just want to torture him more. This time though…there was no musical chord strumming her insides. No, the supremely subtle yet totally real sensation she felt dart up her spine the second her head lifted off of the beanbag chair was something mostly alien to her. It was wariness. Her intuition hadn't fully flipped the alarm switch yet but something… _something_ was telling her to be cautious with this new Freddie because New Freddie had now caught her off guard _twice_ in the past 3 minutes.

"That's what this is about." He smirked. He fucking _smirked!_

Sam sat up because she was beginning to regret sitting down.

"Yeah?" she replied sarcastically, "Well I guess it's too bad that I don't give a shit huh?"

And then he GRINNED and her better instincts finally sounded the alarm. Something was going on. She didn't know what. And the fact that Benson did was far less than ideal. Sam played it cool though, huffing impatiently as she got to her feet.

"Good talk Fredley. I'm out of here."

"Do you remember that time," he stepped in front of her with a laugh, "that I got drunk for the first time at Gibby's Halloween party last year and kinda hooked up with Sarah Tolbert?"

She looked at him as if he'd just spoken gibberish, but said nothing.

"And then you hacked my Twitter the next day and posted about it so Sarah stormed over to me in the middle of lunch, crying and screaming, then she slapped me in front of EVERYBODY?"

She did remember, vividly in fact, because that particular prank had been so crazy satisfying that she almost needed a cigarette afterwards.

"What about it?"

"Oh do you remember that time you broke into my apartment and set all the clocks forward 2 hours?" he chuckled, "So I showed up at school super early. Then you paid the day janitor to take a picture of my face when I realized what happened."

Sam remained silent, her face twisted in confusion.

"Or what about that time you put roadkill in my locker?! Or superglue on all my equipment!?"

At this point the brunette was laughing like a fucking lunatic and Sam was beginning to think his sanity had vanished.

"Oh yeah what about that time-"

"What about the time you handcuffed me to Gibby!?" Her thin patience cracked, "What the fuck is this a stroll down memory lane?"

The laughter stopped and Freddie grew just a little more serious.

"What about that time you "accidentally" spilled punch all over my prom date?" he made the kind of authoritative eye contact that nobody EVER dared to make with her and his voice lowered in volume, "What about the time you slashed one of mom's tires right before we were about to go visit my grandparents in Oregon for a month?"

"That-"

"You think I don't know that was you?"

He was so calm, so in charge, that Samantha Puckett was a big bucket of mixed emotions. On the one hand her temper was just at the edge of erupting because she was too FUCKING exhausted for this shit. But then….on the other hand….she felt like she was losing a fight, and that had never been, and would NEVER be, acceptable.

Freddie continued as the blonde tried to compose her thoughts.

"You thought you got away with that one didn't you? You showed up not 5 minutes later, while my mom was out buying a new tire, complaining that you were really there to see Carly but she wasn't home and that you'd just have to settle for hanging out with me and eating all my food instead."

"Carly _wasn't_ home." She defended herself lamely.

"I know." He smirked, "She and Spencer had had doctor's appointments scheduled for that Friday for weeks. And _you_ knew that."

Sam rolled her eyes, "Why would I have remembered that? It wasn't _my_ appointment."

"You knew because that was the only reason why we cancelled iCarly rehearsal that day and why I agreed to leave with my mom on Friday instead of Saturday."

She felt the tip of her ears begin to burn, "I must've forg-"

"You hung out over here the entire 2 hours it took for us to get the car ready. It was almost like you wanted to buy some more time with me or something."

"Like I what!?"

"Remember the time you fought Beatrice Hanover on Valentine's Day after she asked me to be her valentine?"

"I didn't fight her because of YOU!" Heat was rapidly engulfing Sam's face and she wasn't sure if it was from anger, embarrassment, or both, "I fought her because she's a bitch!"

"Well what about that time-"

"Okay Freddie I got it!" she snapped, or at least she tried to snap but her voice shook and lost all its bravado. "You think I don't know that my pranks bug you? Why else would I bother if they didn't get on your fucking nerves?"

Sam was so sick of hearing him complain. But what really had her more rattled than annoyed was the _way_ he was saying it. There was something just on the underside of his voice, a smooth kind of assertive thing that wormed its way up her spine with every word.

"No I know _exactly_ why you do it." That stupid smirk returned to his face, "I know why your eyes follow me the second I walk into a room, just searching for something to make fun of me about."

He took an almost predatory step forward.

"I know why you go out of your way to get my attention."

"To get your attention?!" now it was Sam's turn to laugh, although hers sounded much more forced, "You mean to torture you. There's a big difference you nub."

Freddie shrugged as he crept forward, never losing his cool, "Whatever you want to call it. Whether it's through a prank or an insult, whenever we're in the same room together, you make sure all of my focus is on you Puckett."

A shiver, slow and subtle, climbed her spine because her last name had never sounded so….so….she didn't even know what. Sam's control was being pulled apart. She tried folding her arms and scoffing at him but things weren't looking so good for her.

"Whatever." She mumbled.

It was an odd yet annoyingly accurate way to describe her treatment of him. He was comparing her bully tactics to something akin to flirtation and it twisted her belly to pretzels. She wanted to puke.

"And I know why you do it." Freddie spoke again as he closed the distance between them to just a few inches. Sam clenched her back molars together and stood her ground. She'd never stifled a rage this long so her fists were just itching to throw a punch. He had the audacity to match her gaze as silence settled and tension mounted. Brown eyes that shone with some new found self-respect stared directly into blue eyes whirling with a tornado of pure fury. There was complete silence for the length of 4 impossibly loud heartbeats. Sam's fist clenched and dug her nails painfully into her palm.

And then it happened.

Those same brown eyes, the color of scalding hot coffee and nearly just as sobering, released the angry baby blues they'd been holding hostage. His gaze, with its unwavering confidence, flickered down for a fraction of a second, to appreciate Samantha Puckett's lips. They were there and back in an instant but time slowed, stretching it into at least a minute. And she _felt_ it. His eyes traced her mouth with rapid but thorough scrutiny, smoothing over every pink centimeter. And holy fuck….she could actually _feel_ it.

With that brief but enormously important look, Sam knew exactly what was going on.

And she panicked.

"I'm out of here." Sam couldn't be sure how successful she was at making her voice sound tired and uncaring because her own heart beat was defeaning.

 _Run! Run! Run! Run!_ It pounded in demanding rhythm.

She stepped around Freddie, hoping to reach the elevator before her knees could buckle.

But then something else unexpected happened so quickly that it threw her off for a third time.

Freddie Benson, who before would've never even thought about laying a finger on Sam for fear of having it swiftly broken, reached out to grab the fleeing blonde by her upper arm. He pulled with just enough force to bring her back to him. Then, without any hesitation and with fear clawing at his insides, he kissed her.

Sam, though utterly stunned, was quick to react, shoving him so hard with her free hand that he went stumbling backwards and released his hold on her.

The blonde stood there leering at him with white hot fire in her eyes and barely any breath in her lungs.

"I don't know what the fuck you think is going on here Benson." She hissed with a voice that was dangerously quiet, "But if you do that again I'll rip your eyeballs right out of your fucking skull."

Freddie didn't respond but simply fixed her with that same knowing stare as he softly bit his lower lip. Sam, unsure of how long her legs were going to keep working properly, started for the elevator again. He watched her.

When he came over to the Shay's earlier that day to complain about Sam being too busy with Chili My Bowl for the three of them to rehearse properly, Carly simply blurted out "She's in love with you you know" as she applied a 2nd coat of mascara. His first reaction was to laugh it off, but at the very same time he became so severely light-headed at her words that he had to sit down on the couch. Did she really expect him to believe such a thing? And, more importantly, why was there hope blossoming in his chest as if it had been seeded there a long time ago? Carly's date was set to pick her up in 5 minutes so when she came to sit beside him in it was in a crop top and high-waisted skirt ensemble that exposed a small strip of skin between her boobs and bellybutton. She smelled like some kind of exotic fruit, her makeup was flawlessly applied, and her hair was curled with gorgeous volume. There was little more than a foot of couch cushion between them as she spoke through glossy pink lips and all Freddie could focus on….was what those lips were saying about Sam. He didn't think he would ever believe her. But then she was looking at him with those sweetly understanding eyes and he realized that Carly Shay would never lie about such a thing. So his brain, still in a thick haze, had hatched a radical and half-baked plan. Carly didn't even question it when he asked to borrow her phone for the night.

By the time Sam showed up for 'rehearsal', Freddie had been alone with his thoughts for more than 3 hours and was 75% sure that Carly had to be telling the truth. But stepping into the ring with a tired and pissed off Sam Puckett with only a 3 out of 4 chance that she wouldn't snap his neck weren't odds he was completely comfortable with. So he'd been nervous through the whole thing so far, even when he was confident he was nervous. Freddie thought he might vomit after it was all over.

But it wasn't over, not yet. He'd already crossed the point of no return and now all he could hear in his mind as he watched Sam storm towards the elevator was Carly's whispering voice, telling him to _press on it._


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4:**

In all the years he had been Sam's own personal punching bag, Freddie never once took one of her threats lightly. If Samantha Puckett threatened to pluck the very eyeballs from your sockets, then she'd do just that and spend the next 25 to life smiling about it behind bars.

But that was before.

Uncharacteristically empowered, Freddie rushed to catch her before the elevator doors could open.

Sam had barely pressed the down button when 2 lean but muscular arms wrapped around her waist. Or they attempted to anyway. But the second she felt him touch her, the blonde whirled around with all the anger and conflicting desire in the world. She slapped him across the face so mercilessly hard that a resounding smack echoed in the silence and shattered something intangible.

"Fuck off Benson!"

Sam moved to shove him with both hands this time but was quickly reminded of how strong New Freddie was as he grabbed her wrists and pushed _her_ instead. And when she felt her back slam into the wall and her arms become immobilized, everything started to crumble. It all happened in one violent, 6-second blur, but as the dust settled there was no denying it. Fredward Benson had Samantha Puckett pinned.

Their real life height difference was minimal, but he towered over her in that moment. His hands kept a firm but somehow gentle grip on her wrists, crushing them up over her head. And man oh man he was pressed so close to her she couldn't have kneed him in the balls if she tried…or even if she wanted to try. There had to have been some kind of hypnotism happening because he was staring into her eyes and that action alone was rendering her defenseless.

She bit down on her lip and tried to pull her arms free, not because she wanted to escape, but because she didn't want to escape and that was fucking scary.

Where the hell had New Freddie beamed down from? And why in the world did she never want him to leave?

Sam stopped her feeble struggles and instead put up a mental fight to maintain her faculties. But it was becoming impossible. The warmth of his body seeped into her as their stomachs and chests grazed lightly. He smelled faintly like some kind of cologne and her brain immediately wondered what bitch had given it to him. Jesus H. Christ, Sam was losing her shit. And how could she not when he was looking at her the way a cheetah looks at a gazelle? He had already lured her into his trap and pinned her to the wall. All that was left to do was devour her slowly.

He wasn't saying a word. It was like he was waiting for something. At the same time, Sam realized that she had never been so close to Freddie before. She could see a tiny, almost invisible childhood scar just above his left eyebrow. A couple of inches below that the skin of his cheek had already started to turn red from the flat of her hand. She could tell it hurt but he didn't seem to care which, for whatever reason, made her throat go dry. She scrutinized his face and tried hard not to lean into him as he continued to tease her with their insane closeness. His stubbly facial hair seemed more rugged from this new angle. And those goddamn eyes of his….

Before now, the only time she ever thought about his eyes was when he pissed her off and she threatened to manually remove them. Would she have still made those threats if she'd known that his irises were the deepest brown imaginable? Would she have even considered plucking them out if she'd known that they were capable of staring past her skin and bones?

She didn't know.

And maybe it was that stare or maybe it was because he still had her pushed up against the wall but suddenly it was _her_ looking at _his_ lips this time. Then, being so accustomed to throwing caution to the wind, Sam angled her head forward and kissed him, hard.

She knew immediately that it was what he'd been waiting for because he kissed back with a ferocity that surprised her. Sam took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit it, gently at first and then with some force because she was still kind of pissed at him and it was hard to separate the desire and the fury. He pressed the whole of his body weight firmly into her and the blonde's mouth parted in a pleasurable gasp that both turned him on and set him free.

They kissed again, slow and rough and deep. His grip tightened around her wrists. Tremors, violent but thrilling, racked her backbone as their mouths moved to a rhythm that was years in the making. She leaned into him harder, wanting to feel him against her as much as physically possible, chest, belly, groin, lips. Her headache diminished, disappearing right along with her ability to breathe. Pain consumed her chest, sweet, glorious, unrelenting pain that was rimmed with pleasure. She felt almost on the brink of death by the time they pulled away. It was a novel sensation, to be so consumed by something that it nearly reduced you to nothing.

Sam and Freddie panted like animals as they watched lust swirl about the other's eyes.

"You going to hit me again?" he rasped breathlessly.

Sam shook her head, not fully able to speak with such a fierce hunger for oxygen. He paused just a moment before releasing her wrists and letting his hands slide down her arms. They burrowed into her unzipped jacket and found her bare waist underneath the Chili My Bowl t-shirt.

She didn't object. Her skin CRAWLED, but she didn't object.

Sam lowered her arms, not even caring when her purse slid to the floor with a thump.

"Now what?" she panted, letting her eyes trail up his throat and across his lips. The blonde wanted him to dig his fingers into her hips and say "Sex". The blonde also wanted him to smile tenderly and say "I love you". The second one turned her stomach upside down, but she wanted it all the same.

Freddie didn't say either of those things though. Sam was caught off guard for what had to be the millionth time that night when he finally spoke without breathing heavily.

"Now," he said softly, hands exploring her lower back, "I want you to be _mine_."

She was too slow to keep her eyebrows from shooting up high on her forehead but did manage to catch her jaw before it could hang open. Instead her magenta lips just parted in surprise.

 _MINE._

What was a young, intelligent, self-reliant feminist to do with a word like that? How could she rant and rave about being an independent woman when his brown eyes, all ravenous hunger and bittersweet chocolate, were crawling slowly across her softest parts and burrowing within them? How could she possibly admit to herself that, with his fingers kneading her skin, the word 'mine' really didn't sound so bad?

"Your what?"

Sam had to ask because, as much as she wanted to tear his clothes off right then and there, she knew that just sex with Freddie wouldn't be enough, not for the deep hunger that had plagued her for years.

He had to think about it for a second. A literal second. Because his subconscious had been imagining that same question falling from her lips countless times before and in every imagined scenario he answered the same.

"My everything."

And he meant it. Even Sam could tell that by the way his brown eyes bloomed with feelings that had lain dormant but gigantic for so long. She knew before his lips even moved that he was about to say something that dripped with sincerity. She wouldn't be his fuck buddy, she wouldn't be his arch enemy, she wouldn't even be his friend. She would be his _everything_ , from floor to ceiling, from flesh to bone. How in the hell was someone like Samantha Puckett, a young woman forever ignorant in matters of the heart, supposed to comprehend something so monumental?

Her inner workings went absolutely haywire under the burning bronze of his stare, but on the surface she was steel. Slowly melting steel, but steel nonetheless. With a scoff that was mostly shallow breathing and hardly any of the typical Sam attitude that she'd intended it to be, the lovesick blonde struggled to maintain some sense of her old toughness….

"That was fucking corny Benson."

….before her metal barriers melted completely into tepid puddles at their feet. She grabbed the front of his shirt before the insulting words had barely left her and kissed him as if she'd been wanting to do so since they were both 14 years old.

The end.


End file.
